


Traditions

by Gonewiththeblizzard



Category: Political RPF - US 20th c., Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Love, Loving Marriage, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 02:07:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13401192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gonewiththeblizzard/pseuds/Gonewiththeblizzard
Summary: On a cold December morning, Hillary reminisces.Set in 2017.





	Traditions

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a very belated Christmas fluff! I know it's late but nevertheless I hope you like it and please let me know what you think because I was very hesitant to post it! Xx
> 
> Big thanks to EAS1928 for encouraging me to write it and post it, and for proofreading it.

When Hillary rouse from her heavy slumber, she was first aware of her husband’s body pressed against her. His big hand was still draped over her midsection, keeping her close, safe. She smiled and basked in the sheer comfort his warm lean body provided, before she opened her eyes, ready to face the new day with a smile. What she found, however, was a still dark room. Confused, Hillary grabbed her phone and looked at the time. Five thirty-two in the morning. She blinked. She wasn’t one to wake up that early, especially after the exhausting activities she and Bill had engaged in last night, but truth be told, she wasn’t tired. She knew that if she didn’t get her mandatory eight hours of sleep, come the evening she’d be dozing off on Bill’s lap. She usually doesn’t mind, she loves being on his lap, but they were going to spend the day in the city, and that night they had a party to attend and she wanted to be able to enjoy it. Hence, she resolved she should go back to sleep. Hillary repositioned herself so her head rested on her husband’s chest and closed her eyes, but it was to no avail. She had always had the ability to sleep on command, but today none of her usual techniques seemed to work and she could only focus on Bill’s loud breathing and the pitiless cold wind lashing the widows. She sighed and carefully proceeded to get out of the bed. Perhaps a cup of tea could help her relax. 

“Hilly?” Bill called her half-awake. He’d always had a sixth sense to notice when she left their bed, dreading the loss of her warm lemon-scented skin. Their loyal dogs also noticed she was up and went to lick her bare feet. She giggled and Bill sat up. 

“I’m going to the kitchen, honey. I’ll be right back” she kneeled on the bed and motioned for him to lie back again. She kissed his clean-shaven cheek and softly caressed the snowy white hairs on his nape, sending him back into a deep dreamless sleep. He needed it. 

She put on her silky robe and her flowered pink sleepers, and her dogs suddenly lost interest and returned to their baskets. Shuffling her feet in an attempt not to make much noise, Hillary went downstairs and into the kitchen. She opened the wooden cupboard where they keep their stack of teas. They had everything, from the usual flavors like green tea, chamomile tea and red tea, to special blends like Canadian ice wine tea and some exotic options she bought in countries like India when she was Secretary of State. Eventually, she picked a lavender and lemon blend Bill liked to drink when he had insomnia. 

She waited until it was ready then walked with it into the living room. She left the steaming tea on the antique coffee table and let herself fall heavily into the fluffy couch. She looked around, contemplating the Christmas decorations that adorned the room. They really had gone all the way that year. The lights that the Secret Service didn’t let them hang outside in fear that it would draw too much attention to the house were now in the living room and, when they switched them on, the room looked more like a nightclub than like the respectable living room of President and Secretary Clinton. That morning was a gloomy one that didn’t reflect the festive spirit in her heart so she decided she’d turn them on, and soon enough the whole room was filled with colors.  
Next, she focused on the cozy fireplace. Four stockings hung over it. One for Bill, one for herself, and another two for Maisie and Tally. She smiled. That tradition started in the White House. Socks, the real star, got a stocking that joined hers, Bill’s and Chelsea’s and when their daughter left for college, they jokingly replaced her stocking with one for Buddy, and now, twenty years later, their pets still had a place on their hearth. As they should, they are, after all part of the family. Chelsea would always tease them saying they loved Maisie and Tally more than her, and they’d jokingly tell her that it was true but that she’d always have a place in their hearts, being their first-born. 

Nothing further from reality. They loved their daughter, and their grandchildren. As evidenced by the ornaments that had a prominent place on their Christmas tree. Several family pictures, including the one they took that summer in Canada that was especially dear to them as Betsy, Tom, Louise and other good friends were in it too, and the jewel of the crown; a drawing their granddaughter had made just for them. It showed the three of time at the beach. A round ball with blond hair was supposed to be Hillary. Bill was depicted as a tall long tree trunk-like figure and the little hybrid between a ball and a trunk between them was Charlotte. At first glance, it looked like a bunch of scrawls but to Bill and Hillary, it was better than a Rembrandt painting. 

With her tea completely forgotten, her gaze went up the tree and settled on the glittering star. Although she always participated in decorating the tree, the star was her job. All her life, she had been in charge of the tree topper. When she was a toddler, her parents didn’t let her participate in decorating the tree, afraid that she would break their traditional glass ornaments. However, little Hillary was eager to do something and always sat there, watching her parents in awe. Eventually, she was given the honor to put the star on top of the tree. As she couldn’t reach the top, her father would hoist her up and she would feel like the she was doing something meaningful. Over the years, she grew up and was able to reach the top by herself, but the tradition continued. There was a moment she stopped getting taller—far too soon for her liking– and could reach the top by herself, but as her situation changed and she became First Lady of Arkansas, then First Lady of the United States, the size of the trees grew considerably, and she would find herself needing a ladder, but nevertheless she always did the job, even when she was wearing a walking boot like that year. However, there was always a helping hand ensuring her clumsiness didn’t get the better of her, her husband’s. 

She couldn’t help the tears pooling at her eyes when she realized the constant that bridged these traditions together. Bill. In the good and the bad times, he was always there. She focused on the ornaments she had bypassed for the star. Although some of them were merely decorative, most of them told the story of their life and brought back sweet and not-so-sweet memories. She took a vintage Santa ornament in her hands. It hadn’t stood the test of time, as Santa’s face looked almost melted, but it would always hold a special place in their hearts. It was the first ornament Bill ever gave her in 1971. They weren’t supposed to spend Christmas together. They were going back to their respective homes, Hillary to Chicago and Bill to Arkansas, but after a heavy snowfall the day before Christmas eve, all roads were closed, and their flights were cancelled. Now she knew that God had conspired to bring them even closer. Forever. As it was so sudden, she didn’t expect a typical Christmas, but Bill had other plans. He, who listened intently to her when she told him about her family traditions, had gone all the way to replicate them, while also incorporating his, to make her feel at home. From that moment onwards, he became her home. 

Then, she picked an old black and white picture of them with baby Chelsea. The story of that one was bittersweet. He brought it home in 1987. They’d been having some issues and they were barely speaking. Therefore, Hillary thought it would be just her and Chelsea decorating the tree. But she was wrong. Bill wouldn’t miss that for anything in the world. That afternoon they were a family again, and the ornament was a token of his evergreen commitment to their family, to her, no matter what. A commitment that, although with some ups and downs, lasted until today. Another special one was a shiny golden heart she bought in 2004, after his surgery. It was kitsch and somewhat gaudy but to her, it represented her husband’s own golden heart. One that would allow them to have many more moments together, if properly taken care of. Fortunately, he took the required steps and he continued to grow older and wiser with her, without abandoning his lifetime commitment of helping others. Because that’s what he did best. He was the most generous compassionate sensitive man she’d ever known, and she was so proud of him. 

She realized she was on the verge of crying, and feeling silly, her focus shifted from the meaningful ones to those ornaments that weren’t that deep. There were Socks and Buddy ornaments they kept since the White House years, and there was the Hillary tree topper Bill bought three weeks ago, as soon as it was released, excited to have his angel on his tree, even if not at the top. There were also some running jokes, like the long white stalactite ornament that from some angles looked like a condom. After hearing of a book that accused her of decorating the White House Christmas tree with condoms and syringes, her smartass husband gave her a real condom-lookalike. That was another thing she loved about him, his sense of humor. No one could make her laugh the way Bill did. 

They also had memorabilia from their campaigns. A Clinton for governor pin from the 80s turned ornament, a couple of Clinton-Gore baubles and of course, a few ornaments from her two failed campaigns. This time she couldn’t keep her tears at bay when she remembered how attentive he had been this past year. Her defeat hadn’t been easy on him either but no matter what, he’d been there for her. To make her laugh when all she wanted to do was cry, to encourage her to go out when hiding under the covers for the rest of her life sounded very tempting. To make her feel alive when she was feeling dead inside. Some people would still doubt his love, but she knew better. He had shown her time and again that he loved her. And she loved him back with all her heart. 

“Are you throwing a party without me, Hills?” as if on cue, Bill’s southern drawn called her from the door. He was referring to the multicolor lights. Smiling, she turned around. His voice, his presence, always had that soothing effect on her. He noticed her tear stained cheeks and walked towards her. “Why is my girl crying?”

“I was just reminiscing” he nodded. She didn’t need to say more. On many occasions he had also become emotional when looking back at their life together. He wiped her tears with the pad of his thumbs and kissed her forehead. Bill grabbed her hand and led her to the sofa. They sat down, and he held her for what seemed like ages. 

“What time is it?” she asked after a while. She picked up her tea and took a sip. She almost spit it back into the cup. It was disgusting, ice cold and to make matters worse, she’d forgotten the honey. Bill chuckled at the faces she was making. 

“A little after half past six” he told her, and she jumped. She didn’t realize she’d spent more than an hour reminiscing. “I woke up early to surprise you with your favorite breakfast, but you beat me to it” Bill kissed her nose, and Hillary looked up and into his light aquamarine eyes. 

“Thank you, Bill” she kissed him softly. “Not just for this, for everything. For being the light in my darkest days. For making me so happy. For showing me, what love is. For being you” Hillary brushed her lips softly against his, expressing in that kiss what she couldn’t convey with words. When she felt her husband getting into the kiss, she stopped him and grinned. “Let’s go upstairs, Billy. I want to thank you properly.”

“Honey, you don’t have to…” he started but she interrupted him. “Alright then. I’d rather eat those pancakes you were so eager to make for me.” She was downright teasing him. She stood up, but he grabbed her waist, pulling her down again, so she was almost on top of him. 

“You didn’t let me finish, baby girl” she giggled, but he was serious. “What I was trying to say is that you don’t have to thank me because it was my pleasure. Being with you is my pleasure. I will never stop thanking God for putting you in my life. I’ve been blessed. You are so smart, so strong, so beautiful and I love you, Hillary Diane.” 

Her eyes misted over once more. She was overcome with emotion. They kissed again. He opened his mouth to grant access to her insistent tongue and when she felt his probing hands roaming around her body, she pulled apart. “I love you too, William Jefferson. Let me show you how much.”


End file.
